


Can You Hear Me Calling (Do You Even Care)

by EchoShimmer



Series: Wumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, probably inaccurate kidnapping scenario, wumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoShimmer/pseuds/EchoShimmer
Summary: Tim is having a rough day even by his standards. Bruce stresses about his son. They'll figure it out eventually.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Wumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948924
Comments: 13
Kudos: 312





	Can You Hear Me Calling (Do You Even Care)

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written at the request of [Niullum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niullum)! I feel like it strayed a tad from the original prompt, but I hope that you like it :)

Bruce’s day had started off pleasantly, almost peacefully. Maybe that should have been his first clue that something was bound to go wrong, but it had been a nice enough change that he didn’t question it at first. 

He had been out late the night before and therefore was allowed to sleep in, Tim was filling in as the Wayne family representative at today’s WE meetings, and Alfred had already taken Damian to school and prepared a perfectly heated cup of coffee by the time Bruce blearily made his way down the stairs. The two men exchanged warm (if a bit stilted on Bruce’s part) greetings, and Bruce sat down and admired the warm sunlight peeking through the clouds outside. 

It was going to be nice outside later. Maybe he could talk one or more of his kids into spending time with him once their commitments for the day were over. It felt like it had been forever since Bruce had spent any time with them outside of the masks.

Then, of course, Bruce’s quiet morning had to be interrupted by the abrupt ringing of his cell phone. He frowned at the screen for a confused moment before answering. 

“Lucius, aren’t you and Tim supposed to be in the middle of the quarterly finances meeting?“

“That’s, ah, part of the problem,” Lucius answered, and Bruce was already on alert by the man’s tone before he finished the explanation that had Bruce’s entire body tensing. “Tim never showed up to the office this morning, and he didn’t answer his phone when Tam and I tried to call him. We weren’t too worried at first, since we know sometimes things just seem to pop up in your family, but then one of Wayne Enterprises public phone lines got an alarming call.”

“Lucius,” Bruce said, the stress in his voice stark enough that Alfred poked his head out of the kitchen to see what was going on. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, Bruce. Tim has been kidnapped. Wayne Enterprises and the GCPD have just managed to confirm that the anonymous caller was telling the truth.”

\---

Tim’s day had started off bad, and everything had really spiraled out of control from there. 

Technically speaking, it would be more appropriate for him to say the last few days have been bad, considering that he hadn’t even slept any the night before. His workload had spiked exponentially over the last few weeks, requests for assistance from the Bats and Titans and even a few Justice League members who didn’t want to deal with Batman himself seemed to line themselves up perfectly with the increase in meetings and reports that his day job demanded of him. Tim had spent most of the night collecting and then compiling data for an ongoing case Dick had passed him that had him running all over town. 

(Part of Tim longed to ask someone to help pick up some of the work, to break down crying that this was too much for anyone, let alone an eighteen year old, to handle. But the rest of Tim always fought back with every reminder of why he couldn’t, why doing so would be admitting a weakness, another reason for him to be kicked out, and the urge was stifled once again.)

By the time Tim’s alarm announced that it was time to start the morning prep routine, he was bleary eyed and in desperate need of some caffeine. Just Tim’s luck, though, that his coffee machine had broken a couple of days previously, and he had run out of energy drinks the day before. Tim was forced to rush through getting ready and out the door at record speeds in order to make enough time for a pit stop on the way to Wayne Tower.

The car service dropped him off two blocks from the Tower itself, right in front of Tim’s favorite coffee shop (if only for it’s convenient proximity to where he worked). He was exhausted, but the coffee was still warm and that’s all that mattered at the moment as Tim exited the cafe and followed his usual path to get to work.

In retrospect, Tim blamed the overwhelming feeling of  _ tired _ for not noticing the men waiting for him in the alley he liked to use as a shortcut. A massive oversight on his part, considering how they had managed to work together to expertly box Tim in against the wall and slam his head into the brick.

His precious coffee spilling on the dirty concrete was the last thing Tim saw before a damp cloth pressed over his face and nose he passed out.

\---

“What do we know?” Bruce demanded the moment he pushed his way into the ground-floor conference room where the GCPD had set up shop. The officers and WE employees alike all whirled around at Bruce’s unexpected entrance. Only the two men who seemed to be in charge of the operation seemed mostly unsurprised. Ah, good, the Commissioner was here already.

“Bruce, that was fast,” Gordon said in lieu of a hello. “We weren’t expecting you for at least another fifteen minutes.”

“I was already on the way,” Bruce sidestepped, not about to admit to either of the men that he had panicked and used the underground tunnels running from the Batcave in order to get there faster. There were too many prying ears in the general vicinity, anyways. Lucius did nothing to contradict the statement as Gordon gave Bruce the rundown.

“From what we can tell, Tim was taken off the street between 8 and 9am. The WE car service reported dropping him off at a coffee shop a couple blocks away from the Tower. Apparently even the driver noted that he seemed more tired than usual, and he didn’t argue with Tim when he said he would walk the rest of the way. It’s not the first time Tim has decided to stop there on the way in. But we suspect someone else had noticed the pattern and chose to act on it. There’s no sign of a significant struggle, but there was a spilled drink in the alleyway just outside of the cafe.”

Bruce could see it all too clearly. How Tim would be tired enough from everything that his guard slipped at the worst time. The kind of people who would plan such a bold kidnapping on a well known figure would have staked it out carefully, found the moment where his son was at his most vulnerable. Even vigilante’s couldn’t be on alert all the time, and it had been far too long since Bruce had been able to check on his second youngest. He should have been there to make sure Tim wasn’t running himself ragged like Bruce knew he was prone to when left to his own devices. Tim didn’t know how to say no when someone asked for a favor. Bruce didn’t plan on making this mistake again.

“Any cameras?” he asked, already suspecting the answer. It was confirmed by Gordon’s slight grimace.

“Not in the alley itself, but we’re working on getting access to any recordings from the surrounding area to see if they flagged them leaving. I have teams set up on that right now. Lucius has also already given permission for us to attempt to trace the next call that comes in. The first was just a request to get in contact with you and wait for further instruction. Typically it’ll be at least another few hours before they call again. Until then we do what we can to track them and get our affairs in order so we can respond to whatever happens accordingly.”

Bruce nodded distractedly, gaze distant with worry (some fabricated, mostly real) as he ran calculations. He knew how kidnappings worked better than any normal person had any right to. He also had the unique situation of working around a vigilante identity, one which he would not be able to take advantage of considering how the kidnappers would want to talk to him specifically. 

Only one solution then.

“Excuse me a moment, I need to call my eldest,” Bruce said, letting slip the smallest shake into his voice to play up his level of concern. He moved out of the room swiftly and found a relatively quiet corner to pull out his phone.

“Bruce? What’s going on?” Dick answered on the second ring, already mildly concerned. It was fair, considering Bruce rarely calls in the middle of the week unless something had gone wrong. Unfortunately, today would not be the day to break that trend.

“You’re going to need to come to Gotham,” Bruce said quickly, bluntly. “Tim’s been kidnapped, we don’t know by who yet. I’m on standby at WE waiting for the ransom instructions. Damian’s still at school, Alfred’s picking him up as per usual and he’ll be told then. It would be good to have you at the Manor to help keep him distracted.”  _ I can’t do anything as Batman right now, _ he tries to imply.  _ Robin won’t be able to sort through all of the information we need on his own, _ he doesn’t say.  _ I need your help if we’re going to save him _ .

Dick, Bruce’s first son and trusted partner, doesn’t disappoint.

“Yeah, of course!” Dick says quickly, the edge of concern in his voice echoing Bruce’s own. “I just have to call into work to get the next few days off and I’ll head down. I should get there right around when Damian gets out of school.”

“Thank you, chum,” Bruce says genuinely. “I’ll keep you all updated.”

They hang up, and Bruce is alone. He closes his eyes and leans slightly into the wall, letting his control slip for a moment. Then he sucked in a deep breath, centered himself, and moved forward.

\---

Tim’s not entirely sure how much time has passed since he was kidnapped. He had been unconscious long enough that he woke up already doubly-restrained to a rather uncomfortable metal chair in a small, brick room. Probably a basement in some abandoned building that the kidnappers had appropriated, if he had to guess. The lack of windows removed any chance of estimating the time that way. The combination of tight ropes and cold, metal handcuffs made for an extra uncomfortable wait.

Tim Drake-Wayne didn’t know how to get out of anything other than basic restraints. Unless things got particularly dangerous, Tim would wait until he had more information. He could handle himself. It wasn’t worth risking the Bats’ identities.

It was a long time before the kidnappers showed themselves, their faces all masked by bandana and hooded jacket combos. Cheap but effective, not alluding to any of Gotham’s typical crowd. The obvious leader of the group, the one in the black coverings, was the one who spoke to Tim.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne, what a pleasure it is to meet you in person. I have been looking forward to this meeting for a long time.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Tim drawled in response, “but, well, you know.” He shrugged his shoulders, emphasizing his restrained limbs. The leader’s brown eyes narrowed in response.

“Don’t play smart with me, boy. I won’t tolerate it. You are here solely as a means to an end for us. If your father would deem to do as we ask, and as long as you behave, you’ll be out of here in no time.” The man went to turn away and exit, but Tim’s tired, witty brain made a decision to say something before he was fully conscious of it.

“What, you’re not going to give me a classic bad guy monologue to pass the time?”

Tim should really have read the room better.

In a split second, the Lead Bad Guy had yanked a hidden knife loose from somewhere, spun around, and stabbed the blade into Tim’s left thigh with no warning. Tim yelped at the sudden slash of pain, only just restraining from straight up screaming as he curled as much as he could around the injury, panting as his eyes reflexively watered.

“Perhaps that will keep you entertained for a while,” Leader said pleasantly before turning around sharply and exiting ahead of his followers, the door slamming behind them. 

Tim was left with the pain and his thoughts and lingering suspicion that this was not going to end well. Would anyone even be looking for him? He’d just have to figure out an escape himself.

Somehow.

\---

It was now approaching twelve hours since Tim had been kidnapped, and Bruce was getting increasingly worried about how things were progressing. He had talked to one of the kidnappers twice, and they weren’t able to reach an agreement either time. Bruce wanted proof of life that they refused to give. They originally asked for more money than could possibly be gathered in the given time frame.

Bruce was mentally exhausted at this point. Toeing the line between concerned dad and somewhat clueless socialite was hard when he wanted nothing more than to take over the computer systems and go full Batman on the problem. But his hands were tied, he had to trust in the others to do the job for him right now. 

Which is why he was instantly suspicious when Dick strolled into the building without warning.

“Dick, what are you doing here? Is everything alright at the Manor?”

“Everything’s fine, B, no worries, we’re all just worried about Tim,” and there  _ was _ worry in his tone and expression, but when he really looked Bruce thought he could see the hint of something else. “Alfie actually sent me here to make sure you weren’t about to just keep hanging around the phones and stressing and not taking care of yourself in the meantime. He said that he’s ordering you to head up to the penthouse for a bit to get some food and a nap. I’m at least a Wayne, I can stay down here with the phones and stall long enough to call you down if they contact us again while you’re gone. Pushing yourself won’t help anyone.”

Dick and Alfred both knew that Bruce had gone much longer without eating and sleeping then this with little thought. They were sending him upstairs for a reason.  _ They had found something _ .

So Bruce left after a bit more prompting by his eldest and a quick hug goodbye (the best way Bruce could think to convey his thanks given the situation) and Bruce was in the penthouse and  _ finally _ able to slip into his Batman persona. He popped the Comm on his ear first and, sure enough, Alfred was waiting on the other end with a location. Within minutes Batman was heading out solo, not willing to waste the time to go pick up Robin from the cave just to deal with a couple of thugs.

The fact that they hadn't let him speak to Tim made Bruce nervous. He wouldn’t be waiting a moment longer than he had to.

\---

Tim has no clue what's going on anymore. It felt like hours since someone last checked on him to make sure he was still alive. He’d been given no food or water in the meantime.

There was still a knife in Tim’s leg and that was… not ideal. But if Tim managed to pull it out right now he was about 95 percent sure he would have bled out, and the knife wouldn’t really help him escape anyways. By now the wound had clotted around the knife so pulling it out would just make everything worse really.

So he was still stuck in the chair, still with a knife in his leg, and with no way to get out. 

Tim had lost enough blood at this point and he hadn’t slept (or had access to caffeine) for enough time that everything was growing increasingly hazy around him. The prickling of pressure and heat around the edges of the wound hinted at a possible infection setting in, the wonders of not having a spleen. Even if he had been able to get out in the beginning without blowing his cover, Tim wouldn’t be able to physically do the job now. So he just drifted through his thoughts dully, waiting for something to give.

He was only distantly aware of the sounds of fighting from another room, the shouts and growls and thuds and gunshots that all vigilante’s became familiar with quickly. Some part of Tim’s mind noticed the change, but he didn’t really have the energy or ability to do anything about it. So he just sat there, faintly processing his surroundings through muffled ears and half-closed eyes.

The door opened, and Tim didn’t bother looking up. The voice and footsteps were vaguely familiar- was the leader of the group coming back to bother him again, to tell him how his family was refusing to cooperate the way they wanted? But then the black figure resolved itself further as Tim tried to focus more, and it was  _ Batman _ . B. Bruce.

_ He’s actually here _ Tim marveled, his overworked brain struggling to process everything as B carefully undid Tim’s bindings and gently inspected his leg, wrapping a bandage around the limb to keep the knife stable for transport. And the whole time he was talking, tone low and soothing despite Tim not being able to make out the words. 

Eventually B runs out of smaller wounds to hover over worriedly like he always used to. Like he hasn’t in a while now. Then Tim is being carefully hefted up into the older man’s arms, head resting limply against the larger man’s shoulder as he curled up against the familiar symbol, and it’s all just- its too much for tired-Tim to handle.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” Tim slurs tiredly, too scrambled to rationalize that normally he wouldn’t admit to such weakness. He had thought it, so he voiced it. If he had any more energy or was in any less pain, Tim would have probably tensed up in expectation for a reprimand for showing anything less than unfaltering devotion to his partner. But he was half asleep already, sinking into the comfort of the strong arms around him.

Batman paused in the doorway, arms tensing ever so slightly around the small boy, facial expression unreadable through the cowl and hazy layers obstructing Tim’s vision, but his voice was sincere when he spoke.

“I’ll always come for you, Tim,” he said, punctuated by the slight pressure against the top of Tim’s head that could have been a kiss.

B starts moving forward again, stepping smoothly as to not jostle Tim unnecessarily. Tim sinks further into the feeling of being protected, body finally relaxing as his eyes manage to slip fully closed.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Bruce dropped Tim off at a hospital and sprinted back across the city to get to the Tower for the phone call from the hospital that Batman had just saved his son, and then Dick and Bruce both went to hover around Tim’s hospital bed until he woke up, and conversations happened about Tim’s insecurities and there were a lot of hugs


End file.
